


Driven By The Strangle of Vein

by Theboys



Series: Dear God, It's Me, Dean [27]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Sam, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Sam, Blood and Gore, Bottom Dean, Canon-Typical Violence, Demon Deals, M/M, Omega Dean, POV Sam, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sam, Protective Sam, Top Sam, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 21:25:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4495299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theboys/pseuds/Theboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He sucks his teeth, bows his head apologetically. “Ah, see, I don’t really do well with warnings. No is not an option for me.”</p><p>In which Sam and Alpha are on the exact same page, and that's a double-edged sword.</p><p>Sam POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Driven By The Strangle of Vein

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Closer, by Kings of Leon.
> 
> This one is fairly violent, folks.

Sam is elbows deep in blood, thick and raven, liquid sin curdling.

Ruby is standing nearby, grin splitting her small face in two, and she’s bouncing on the balls of her feet. No decorum. She is shrouded in black today, leather jacket torn in two places, combat boots laced up just past her ankle. Her hands are clasped under her porcelain chin and she’s got a streak of crimson tangled in her hair.

Colors of The Party.

Sam’s naked from the waist up, tattoo slathered in the blood of the damned that has seeped through his shirt. It’s congregating on the latter half of his body, sticky and prideful. He’s got three demons, all in various stages of dismemberment, strewn by his feet.

Ruby smirks up at him, exposes long fingers and wiggles them impatiently. “Knife, Sam.”

Sam raises one brow, wipes the flat end of the blade on the ruined denim of his jeans, practiced movement. He leans down, jerks the hem of his tattered jeans up to calf level and shoves the blade inside his boot. Tight fit, then.

Ruby’s light blue eyes are saucer wide, and her cheeks are flaring as her mouth endeavors to form sentences. She’s struggling to communicate, fingers flexing in his direction. “Deal, Ruby.” He offers, slings the viscous blood from his arms, tingle of regret and shame draining through him. Alpha is hungry, hasn’t stopped pacing and snarling since this all began.

Can scent the aroma of death in the air, coupled with assault, black tar and sulfur, hint of decay.

I have become death.

Ruby had set up the meeting, asked him to come along, fulfill his part of the deal. Dean’s been afforded more time, and potentially, even more time than the original bargain, if Sam plays his cards right, does what he’s promised Crowley he would.

Sealed it with a crossroads kiss and a blood bond, thin smear of red on his wrist where he pressed it against the demons. In all regards, it isn’t as bad of a deal as he would have thought. He’s mainly being recruited for his strength. He and his brother have a delightful propensity for outwitting demons, black smoke and desecration spiraling back to the Pit.

He’s the most viable option.

And Crowley wants the throne. Pragmatic man, in that regard. He’s aware that if he were strong enough alone, he would be fighting Lilith off himself to _maintain_ his place, rather than attempting to overthrow a crown that she has basically already procured.

He’s yet to see her. He knows he will, at some point in this process, but he’s not prepared for that yet. He does not know how to look in the face of such evil and proceed, to make his wolf heel with the instinctive need to destroy.

His blood is a furnace, reminding him that he is a bred Alpha, intent on the kill and the win, both inseparable as entities. Scarred silver dollar. Wounded side belongs to Alpha, all brutality and duplicity, and Sam maintains the other face, denies Alpha his birthright.

Sam has been the mediator for all of his life, is not sure how to be anything but this. Ruby had chattered, right up until they were close to the clearing, slid him the knife in no uncertain terms.

“Guess you and Crowls came to a decision, huh?” She-bitch smirk in her face, good distance between her body and Sam’s. Remembers crippled bones inflicted on a whim, doesn’t wish for a repeat.

Sam grunts down at her, at a loss as to why she’s speaking. This is not a date. This is a job. A particularly nasty hunt he’s been forced to attend, by necessity. He’s got nothing to say to her.

She continues, three steps to his every one.

“Listen. I’m supposed to meet with some of Lilith’s lackeys today. Real bottom tier types.” She huffs out a loose breath as she stumbles over a large rock in her path. Sam isn’t even looking at her.

“She doesn’t see Crowley as a threat, yet. That’s where you and I come in.” Sam inclines his head. “She’s looking at her left hand when she should really, really be looking at the right.” Her smile is disturbing, and Sam can smell of fear-scent ratchet higher in her host, sweltering heat and crimson.

Alpha growls out, riotous sound in the relative quiet of the forest. Ruby’s body snaps backwards on instinct and her eyes narrow. “Don’t fucking do that. Damn wolves respond to everything.” Sam’s turn for a night-grin, malice contorting every feature he’s got.

“Listen, Sammy,” she begins mockingly, slowing down infinitesimally. “I get it. You don’t _want_ this. But, newsflash, you giant fucking animal, you don’t have a choice. It’s this or your brother’s life.” She dances back, lithe feet skipping away two steps. “And don’t even think we don’t know all about your pups, Sam. Can smell ‘em on you.”

Her omega host hisses. “Can smell your _mate_.”

Sam recognizes the reason she backed away the instant he lunges, and Alpha is out for the kill, Sam’s vibrating with the shift, and he hasn’t been this close in years, incisors completely lengthened, the world filtered through his sharper, golden wolf-vision.

Ruby’s body hurtles towards a tree and she’s pinned, throat bared submissively, and he can see it is against her will, her body spasms violently, veins corded around her neck as she attempts to shift her head upright. Sam never uses Alpha-will, he’s spent too many years out of control to allow another the same feeling.

He’s drunk on it now, Alpha leans forward and slides sharpened teeth against her neck, decisive slice so that she can feel the blood trickle, chart a path down to her collarbone, meander towards her breast.

“I don’t give a fuck if you know about every goddamn wet dream I ever had, bitch. You don’t talk about them and you definitely--” Alpha needs to growl, full on proprietary claim, and Sam defers to him, stretches his neck back to howl, and it’s laced with authority. “never say a damn word about **him**.”

He shakes her, watches as her blond head smacks violently against the bark, the fine tendrils of her hair tangling with the tree. He releases his hands, and she drops back to the earth with a smack. He hadn’t realized that he had her dangling in the air.

Offering for his pleasure, Ark of the Covenant.

She doesn’t look at him, but he can feel the thinly concealed rage in her vocals, trembling behind that terror that Alpha produces. “Plan was for you to surprise attack us during the meeting, but they know you’re here, now.” She glances in his direction, sideways scowl. “They can scent your Alpha. Just gonna have to pretend you captured me and go from there.”

Sam reaches out and snags the fleshy part of her upper arm, tugs her in close to his side. She can feel the hard line of his body, probably smell the way Alpha is preening, entirely in his element here, free to ravage, bloodthirsty.

Sam’s grinning, not exactly pleased, but his blood is pumping, and he’s been born for the kill, trained mercilessly for moments such as these.

And for your lifeblood I will require a reckoning.

Ruby is silent, and that is a blessing in and of itself, small miracles.

The clearing is unnaturally quiet, as if every living thing has fled from the stench of decay invading Sam’s nostrils. Host of disease, sickly-sweat smell gathered in the woods. They’re leaning against trees, seemingly casual positions, but Sam’s eyes run over them briskly. They’re on guard.

There are two Betas, one ‘mega and, surprisingly enough, an Alpha. Demons tend to avoid Alphas, they’re not especially easy to possess. They tend to be on guard all the time, finely honed senses, predisposition to chariness.

Sam’s only talked to one Alpha that’s been possessed, all his life, and the demon was unprepared. Expelled itself, too much of a struggle to take down the wolf that resides inside the man. This Alpha looks relatively subdued though. This demon must be decently strong. Sam’s hackles rise as he even imagines demon fluid within, suffocating his instincts, demanding he submit.

He flings Ruby into the open center, channeling the force of his rage, and she flops heavily on her side, and wisely, lays still.

“Brought your bitch.”

He says this snidely, unaccustomed to the unadulterated fury coursing through his limbs, thinks briefly of tightening Alpha’s ever available leash. He ignores that thought. He needs his wolf. Needs them to step together, he’ll not be able to take them all alone.

The Alpha is the one to speak, and Sam fights off a smirk. Predictable, then.

“We don’t give a fuck about her.” The man is a good five inches shorter than he, but stocky, mess of wavy black hair on his head, muddy brown eyes. His scent is earthy, soiled with ichor. “Think we didn’t know about you, Sammy? Didn’t know she came to meet you?”

He stalks forward, unpeeling his back from the bark behind him. “She’s not strong enough to do anything alone. She needs an _army._ Only army downstairs is ours. Belongs to Lilith.”

The omega near him laughs, shrill thing, and she’s auburn, pale, almost-grey eyes and a long tattoo sleeve winding up her right arm to curl up her neck and end on the bottom of her cheek.

Entire thing is an abstract cross.

“We’re your warning, Winchester. This ain’t your fight. Don’t make it.” She’s got feline grace, about 5’7 inches, and Sam’s making quick mental calculations. Ruby was wrong. These aren’t grunts. They aren’t top shelf, either, but they’re here to make a statement.

Here to murder Ruby and squash any talk of a rebellion. Sam knew he’d be embroiled in a demon war, but this--this is a bit much. Alpha digs claws in, growls reproachfully.

Dean and the pups. He doesn’t exist, without them.

This never had anything to do with him.

He sucks his teeth, bows his head apologetically. “Ah, see, I don’t really do well with warnings. No is not an option for me.”

The Alpha is opening his mouth, wolf-spine taut and Sam is already halfway to posturing in his direction, when one of the Betas laughs, like bell chimes at a church.

He doesn’t speak to Sam, directs his words around the semicircle. “Guess the fight didn’t get stabbed out of him, last year?”

Light brown eyes will be the only thing about this man that Sam remembers, in years to come.

“Wanna try for round two?”

The Beta is smiling as he says this, head inclined inquisitively.

Several things happen at once. Ruby’s body stiffens from where it is hunched in on itself, omega senses urging protection, can scent the violence faster than non-omega counterparts. The tattooed omega opens her mouth in a wide snarl, and that’s new. Visible display of first aggression from the weaker sex.

The omega is already in motion, sliding forward to protect the Beta who insulted Sam, forfeited his own life with little grace, dying breed. But Sam hasn’t hunted all his life for nothing. Oh, Alpha _wants_ to murder him, this instant, everything else be damned, but if Sam is anything, it’s logical.

He ducks down into his boot, removing the blade, slices through the air like a knife in water, dull gleam that catches everyone off guard.

_there it is._

Sam winks at Ruby, who has tilted her face up in disbelief. Sam lunges for the Alpha, it will be his hardest kill, and the other three have banked on him succumbing to instinct and killing the one he has fault with. Sam tumbles into him at wolf speed, jumping into the air, allows his incisors to lengthen midway.

This demon will never be able to control the wolf as well as the man. Sam clamps his teeth down on wrist and bone and snaps, Alpha crumbling to the ground weakly. He’s mid shift, ears elongated and claws extracted, his spine curved in that between-space between wolf and man. The demon was shifting on instinct, no control, or else he would have been aware that this was a death move.

Sam jams the knife into his jugular, white hot light blasting through his eyes and mouth, smell of a furnace and flesh. Sam lets the body slide from his fingers. He’s disappointed. He thought that would be tougher. The omega is coming for him now, feisty bitch, and Sam’s grinning next to Alpha, thrill of the hunt.

She tumbles toward him, little grace, her claws connecting with his stomach and slicing through the skin in a jagged arc. He grits out a growl of pain and then catches her hair as it flies past, winds it around his palm and forearm and pulls her flush against him, back to chest. Knife slices underneath her chin, tip of it gleaming through the bottom of her mouth, through the tongue.

Same violent light display, blood gushing forth like a fountain, and he flings her to the side, body snapping and breaking as it collides with a tree.

Two Betas left, defensive stances, the one who began all this looking decidedly paler, mouth pinched in a tight line, eyes completely blackened, city curfew darkness.

Sam runs the blade through his thumb and index finger, flings the droplets of blood he’s collected onto the forest floor, sprinkle of crimson rain on dead leaves. Modern art.

“How about _you_ tell me what it feels like to lose your fight?”

The Beta growls, crouches closer to the ground and plants his feet, uses the momentum to propel himself forward. Sam demands Alpha heel as his wolf strains to respond in kind, meet him halfway in a collision of flesh and wolf, start of the end.

Sam hurls the knife instead, obstinately, against all reason, hearing the sound of Dean’s voice in his head, Wisconsin target practices, Dean’s pride in his superior skill with a blade.

_Nothing but instinct, Sammy. Never see you hesitate._

It’s a sure kill, slice of silver floating on winged air, slams home a little to the left of the breastbone.

Hears the gurgle as it slides cleanly through the heart, and the Beta topples to the ground, fireworks in his eyes as he twitches in his death throes. Sam isn’t finished, does not allow himself to sniff at his victory.

Tugs his weapon free and aims it at the last Beta, who is upright, blanched with fear but unmoving, and Sam is surprised to feel Alpha’s grudging respect. “Go back to Lilith. Tell her what happened here.”

Sam fixes the boy with an unyielding stare.

“Tell her Sam Winchester is coming.”

**Author's Note:**

> yoooo, how are we feeling about Sam right now???


End file.
